How grateful I am that you exist,
To calm me in these, the worst of storms.
You. Here even when I can’t see.
Even when I can’t breathe.
When I can’t think, and when I can’t sleep.
You are with me to make each little leap,
Towards surviving.
I am so thankful.
                                           - Ada. R.



Is it falling or is it driving?
The rain.
Or is it falling or driving down
The path?
What is it that’s thriving?
Maybe time is skiving?
Just once, for a day.
Do you think it has a say?

                                               - Ada. R.

Bridges in the night

Crossing the bridges in the moonlight
Is more dangerous than at first light.
They shake violently with the weight of my mind.

I can’t look forward, only behind
At the whispers whipping at my heels,
Pulling at the fallen discarded peels
Of this and that, faces and rags.
I’ve run out of flags.
Do I drown or take flight?

                                                              - Ada. R. 

The sky and the sea.

The impostor in me is taking over,
Now shaking my fragile state.
I’m struggling to carry this emotional freight.
Over and over it goes.

The needle pivots where it stands,
Leaning in the sea spray.
I’m struggling to hold up the sky of grey,
That billows and blows.

                                                               - Ada. R


My hands are shaking again.
I push my legs and turn the key.
The creaking nearly falters in the neuron bullpen.

I feel the misting tears shadowing my face.
Why don't they leave me?
Why are they always keeping pace?

Fracturing lights wait in the corner.
Are they working to unnerve the shadows?
I cry as a desperate mourner.

                                                            - Ada. R

Stop running

Desperate to be homebound.  
Please say this is the last round,
No more circling, heaving to make up for lost ground.
There’s nothing left to astound,
Or surprise the deadpan calendar-calling sound.
Is it bad I want the ship to run aground?
Just to stop and stamp on the profound
Anchoring speakers which are always drowned,
Under the circling playground.
The ship has been crowned and is headed southbound,
But it will come back around.
From the distance it edges closer into the foreground.
The keel and the tide, together bound.

                                                                    - Ada. R


I was out in the crowds again today. I don’t particularly dread it, but I don’t like it much either. It’s one of those things that you can’t avoid all of the time.

I’m trying to find motivation for something. I’ve been searching for a while but I can’t find it. There’s something holding me back constantly. And underneath that there is a constant fear. I’m not quite sure what it is exactly. I mean, I can guess and clutch at straws, but I’m starting to feel tired of putting things together all the time. Because when I’m putting things together I always sort of know that it’ll never be finished, and I’ll always have the unfinished pieces to look at. I’m not sure how to deal with unfinished pieces. Should I be proud of them, because I have made progress. Or do I feel ashamed because no matter how hard I try to put things together, I can’t do it well enough. I can’t reach the ends of journeys the way other people seem to be able to. It feels like hanging in limbo; I’m neither at one end or the other.